Demons, I address you in your haunt,
My sense-starved psyche, oceanic mind.
Cruel Chaos and Self-doubt, there is no want
Of reasons you may conjure up to bind
Me to a state of morbid pessimism.
It's easy to despair; not so, be patient.
Betwixt my hopes and life there lies a schism
So great it seems the breach could span a nation.
I see the other demons, beings of violence:
Tyrants, murderers, and savage beasts,
The leering, lustful, and deceiving prince
Who sups on carrion at sanguine feasts.
I see you, do not fear you, will not make
My mind an easy battlefield to take.
George Chadderdon © 1995